CHAPTER XIV
THE NIGHT OF THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR HOURS AND A HALF
At the moment when this phenomenon took place so rapidly, theprojectile was skirting the moon's north pole at less thantwenty-five miles distance. Some seconds had sufficed to plungeit into the absolute darkness of space. The transition was sosudden, without shade, without gradation of light, withoutattenuation of the luminous waves, that the orb seemed to havebeen extinguished by a powerful blow.
"Melted, disappeared!" Michel Ardan exclaimed, aghast.
Indeed, there was neither reflection nor shadow. Nothing morewas to be seen of that disc, formerly so dazzling. The darknesswas complete. and rendered even more so by the rays from the stars.It was "that blackness" in which the lunar nights are insteeped,which last three hundred and fifty-four hours and a half at eachpoint of the disc, a long night resulting from the equality ofthe translatory and rotary movements of the moon. The projectile,immerged in the conical shadow of the satellite, experienced theaction of the solar rays no more than any of its invisible points.
In the interior, the obscurity was complete. They could not seeeach other. Hence the necessity of dispelling the darkness.However desirous Barbicane might be to husband the gas, thereserve of which was small, he was obliged to ask from it afictitious light, an expensive brilliancy which the sun then refused.
"Devil take the radiant orb!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "whichforces us to expend gas, instead of giving us his rays gratuitously."
"Do not let us accuse the sun," said Nicholl, "it is not hisfault, but that of the moon, which has come and placed herselflike a screen between us and it."
"It is the sun!" continued Michel.
"It is the moon!" retorted Nicholl.
An idle dispute, which Barbicane put an end to by saying:
"My friends, it is neither the fault of the sun nor of the moon;it is the fault of the _projectile_, which, instead of rigidlyfollowing its course, has awkwardly missed it. To be more just,it is the fault of that unfortunate meteor which has sodeplorably altered our first direction."
"Well," replied Michel Ardan, "as the matter is settled, let ushave breakfast. After a whole night of watching it is fair tobuild ourselves up a little."
This proposal meeting with no contradiction, Michel prepared therepast in a few minutes. But they ate for eating's sake, theydrank without toasts, without hurrahs. The bold travelers beingborne away into gloomy space, without their accustomed_cortege_ of rays, felt a vague uneasiness in their hearts.The "strange" shadow so dear to Victor Hugo's pen bound them onall sides. But they talked over the interminable night of threehundred and fifty-four hours and a half, nearly fifteen days,which the law of physics has imposed on the inhabitants of the moon.
Barbicane gave his friends some explanation of the causes andthe consequences of this curious phenomenon.
"Curious indeed," said they; "for, if each hemisphere of themoon is deprived of solar light for fifteen days, that abovewhich we now float does not even enjoy during its long night anyview of the earth so beautifully lit up. In a word she has nomoon (applying this designation to our globe) but on one side ofher disc. Now if this were the case with the earth-- if, forexample, Europe never saw the moon, and she was only visible atthe antipodes, imagine to yourself the astonishment of aEuropean on arriving in Australia."
"They would make the voyage for nothing but to see the moon!"replied Michel.
"Very well!" continued Barbicane, "that astonishment is reservedfor the Selenites who inhabit the face of the moon opposite tothe earth, a face which is ever invisible to our countrymen ofthe terrestrial globe."
"And which we should have seen," added Nicholl, "if we had arrivedhere when the moon was new, that is to say fifteen days later."
"I will add, to make amends," continued Barbicane, "that theinhabitants of the visible face are singularly favored by nature,to the detriment of their brethren on the invisible face.The latter, as you see, have dark nights of 354 hours, withoutone single ray to break the darkness. The other, on the contrary,when the sun which has given its light for fifteen days sinksbelow the horizon, see a splendid orb rise on the opposite horizon.It is the earth, which is thirteen times greater than thediminutive moon that we know-- the earth which developes itselfat a diameter of two degrees, and which sheds a light thirteentimes greater than that qualified by atmospheric strata-- theearth which only disappears at the moment when the sun reappearsin its turn!"
"Nicely worded!" said Michel, "slightly academical perhaps."
"It follows, then," continued Barbicane, without knitting hisbrows, "that the visible face of the disc must be very agreeableto inhabit, since it always looks on either the sun when themoon is full, or on the earth when the moon is new."
"But," said Nicholl, "that advantage must be well compensated bythe insupportable heat which the light brings with it."
"The inconvenience, in that respect, is the same for the twofaces, for the earth's light is evidently deprived of heat.But the invisible face is still more searched by the heat thanthe visible face. I say that for _you_, Nicholl, because Michelwill probably not understand."
"Thank you," said Michel.
"Indeed," continued Barbicane, "when the invisible face receivesat the same time light and heat from the sun, it is because themoon is new; that is to say, she is situated between the sun andthe earth. It follows, then, considering the position which sheoccupies in opposition when full, that she is nearer to the sunby twice her distance from the earth; and that distance may beestimated at the two-hundredth part of that which separates thesun from the earth, or in round numbers 400,000 miles. So thatinvisible face is so much nearer to the sun when she receivesits rays."
"Quite right," replied Nicholl.
"On the contrary," continued Barbicane.
"One moment," said Michel, interrupting his grave companion.
"What do you want?"
"I ask to be allowed to continue the explanation."
"And why?"
"To prove that I understand."
"Get along with you," said Barbicane, smiling.
"On the contrary," said Michel, imitating the tone and gesturesof the president, "on the contrary, when the visible face of themoon is lit by the sun, it is because the moon is full, that isto say, opposite the sun with regard to the earth. The distanceseparating it from the radiant orb is then increased in roundnumbers to 400,000 miles, and the heat which she receives mustbe a little less."
"Very well said!" exclaimed Barbicane. "Do you know, Michel,that, for an amateur, you are intelligent."
"Yes," replied Michel coolly, "we are all so on the Boulevarddes Italiens."
Barbicane gravely grasped the hand of his amiable companion, andcontinued to enumerate the advantages reserved for the inhabitantsof the visible face.
Among others, he mentioned eclipses of the sun, which only takeplace on this side of the lunar disc; since, in order that theymay take place, it is necessary for the moon to be _inopposition_. These eclipses, caused by the interposition of theearth between the moon and the sun, can last _two hours_; duringwhich time, by reason of the rays refracted by its atmosphere,the terrestrial globe can appear as nothing but a black pointupon the sun.
"So," said Nicholl, "there is a hemisphere, that invisiblehemisphere which is very ill supplied, very ill treated,by nature."
"Never mind," replied Michel; "if we ever become Selenites, wewill inhabit the visible face. I like the light."
"Unless, by any chance," answered Nicholl, "the atmosphere shouldbe condensed on the other side, as certain astronomers pretend."
"That would be a consideration," said Michel.
Breakfast over, the observers returned to their post. They triedto see through the darkened scuttles by extinguishing all lightin the projectile; but not a luminous spark made its way throughthe darkness.
One inexplicable fact preoccupied Barbicane. Why, having passedwithin such a short distance of the moon--about
twenty-fivemiles only-- why the projectile had not fallen? If its speedhad been enormous, he could have understood that the fall wouldnot have taken place; but, with a relatively moderate speed,that resistance to the moon's attraction could not be explained.Was the projectile under some foreign influence? Did some kindof body retain it in the ether? It was quite evident that itcould never reach any point of the moon. Whither was it going?Was it going farther from, or nearing, the disc? Was it beingborne in that profound darkness through the infinity of space?How could they learn, how calculate, in the midst of this night?All these questions made Barbicane uneasy, but he could notsolve them.
Certainly, the invisible orb was _there_, perhaps only some fewmiles off; but neither he nor his companions could see it.If there was any noise on its surface, they could not hear it.Air, that medium of sound, was wanting to transmit the groaningsof that moon which the Arabic legends call "a man already halfgranite, and still breathing."
One must allow that that was enough to aggravate the mostpatient observers. It was just that unknown hemisphere whichwas stealing from their sight. That face which fifteen dayssooner, or fifteen days later, had been, or would be, splendidlyilluminated by the solar rays, was then being lost in utter darkness.In fifteen days where would the projectile be? Who could say?Where would the chances of conflicting attractions have drawnit to? The disappointment of the travelers in the midst of thisutter darkness may be imagined. All observation of the lunardisc was impossible. The constellations alone claimed all theirattention; and we must allow that the astronomers Faye, Charconac,and Secchi, never found themselves in circumstances so favorablefor their observation.
Indeed, nothing could equal the splendor of this starry world,bathed in limpid ether. Its diamonds set in the heavenly vaultsparkled magnificently. The eye took in the firmament from theSouthern Cross to the North Star, those two constellations whichin 12,000 years, by reason of the succession of equinoxes, willresign their part of the polar stars, the one to Canopus in thesouthern hemisphere, the other to Wega in the northern.Imagination loses itself in this sublime Infinity, amid whichthe projectile was gravitating, like a new star created by thehand of man. From a natural cause, these constellations shonewith a soft luster; they did not twinkle, for there was noatmosphere which, by the intervention of its layers unequallydense and of different degrees of humidity, producesthis scintillation. These stars were soft eyes, looking outinto the dark night, amid the silence of absolute space.
Long did the travelers stand mute, watching the constellatedfirmament, upon which the moon, like a vast screen, made anenormous black hole. But at length a painful sensation drewthem from their watchings. This was an intense cold, which sooncovered the inside of the glass of the scuttles with a thickcoating of ice. The sun was no longer warming the projectilewith its direct rays, and thus it was losing the heat stored upin its walls by degrees. This heat was rapidly evaporating intospace by radiation, and a considerably lower temperature wasthe result. The humidity of the interior was changed into iceupon contact with the glass, preventing all observation.
Nicholl consulted the thermometer, and saw that it had fallen toseventeen degrees (Centigrade) below zero. [3] So that, in spiteof the many reasons for economizing, Barbicane, after havingbegged light from the gas, was also obliged to beg for heat.The projectile's low temperature was no longer endurable.Its tenants would have been frozen to death.
[3]
[email protected] Fahrenheit.
"Well!" observed Michel, "we cannot reasonably complain of themonotony of our journey! What variety we have had, at leastin temperature. Now we are blinded with light and saturated withheat, like the Indians of the Pampas! now plunged into profounddarkness, amid the cold, like the Esquimaux of the north pole.No, indeed! we have no right to complain; nature does wonders inour honor."
"But," asked Nicholl, "what is the temperature outside?"
"Exactly that of the planetary space," replied Barbicane.
"Then," continued Michel Ardan, "would not this be the time tomake the experiment which we dared not attempt when we weredrowned in the sun's rays?
"It is now or never," replied Barbicane, "for we are in a goodposition to verify the temperature of space, and see if Fourieror Pouillet's calculations are exact."
"In any case it is cold," said Michel. "See! the steam of theinterior is condensing on the glasses of the scuttles. If the fallcontinues, the vapor of our breath will fall in snow around us."
"Let us prepare a thermometer," said Barbicane.
We may imagine that an ordinary thermometer would afford noresult under the circumstances in which this instrument was tobe exposed. The mercury would have been frozen in its ball,as below
[email protected] Fahrenheit below zero it is no longer liquid.But Barbicane had furnished himself with a spirit thermometeron Wafferdin's system, which gives the minima of excessivelylow temperatures.
Before beginning the experiment, this instrument was comparedwith an ordinary one, and then Barbicane prepared to use it.
"How shall we set about it?" asked Nicholl.
"Nothing is easier," replied Michel Ardan, who was never at a loss."We open the scuttle rapidly; throw out the instrument; it followsthe projectile with exemplary docility; and a quarter of an hourafter, draw it in."
"With the hand?" asked Barbicane.
"With the hand," replied Michel.
"Well, then, my friend, do not expose yourself," answeredBarbicane, "for the hand that you draw in again will be nothingbut a stump frozen and deformed by the frightful cold."
"Really!"
"You will feel as if you had had a terrible burn, like that ofiron at a white heat; for whether the heat leaves our bodiesbriskly or enters briskly, it is exactly the same thing.Besides, I am not at all certain that the objects we have thrownout are still following us."
"Why not?" asked Nicholl.
"Because, if we are passing through an atmosphere of theslightest density, these objects will be retarded. Again, thedarkness prevents our seeing if they still float around us.But in order not to expose ourselves to the loss of ourthermometer, we will fasten it, and we can then more easilypull it back again."
Barbicane's advice was followed. Through the scuttle rapidlyopened, Nicholl threw out the instrument, which was held by ashort cord, so that it might be more easily drawn up. The scuttlehad not been opened more than a second, but that second had sufficedto let in a most intense cold.
"The devil!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "it is cold enough tofreeze a white bear."
Barbicane waited until half an hour had elapsed, which was morethan time enough to allow the instrument to fall to the level ofthe surrounding temperature. Then it was rapidly pulled in.
Barbicane calculated the quantity of spirits of wine overflowedinto the little vial soldered to the lower part of theinstrument, and said:
"A hundred and forty degrees Centigrade [4] below zero!"
[4] 218 degrees Fahrenheit below zero.
M. Pouillet was right and Fourier wrong. That was the undoubtedtemperature of the starry space. Such is, perhaps, that of thelunar continents, when the orb of night has lost by radiationall the heat which fifteen days of sun have poured into her.